


The Lure of the Song

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Years of the Trees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-01-10
Updated: 2003-01-10
Packaged: 2018-04-12 07:38:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4470860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>by Maeve Riannon. Elwe, King of the Teleri, follows an enchanting voice and gets lost in the dark forest of Nan Elmoth, where an old and evil spirits awaits him. The tale of the strange birth of the Dark Elf, now completed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, there are a couple of things you might want to know about this  
> fic. The most important is that it´s a birthday present for Soledad (whose  
> birthday isn´t until October, but, if she has already finished her own  
> birthday fic, what am I doing still at the first chapter??)  
> The other thing is that this story is an answer to everyone who asked me to  
> explain better what was this of Eöl being Thingol´s son. So don´t be  
> surprised if things don´t go exactly as the Grey Annals said...(btw, no  
> wonder, as Thingol is likely to have had a hand in their publication, but  
> I´m not serious, I´m joking, so shut up, please. Thanks.)
> 
> Warning: if you don´t like unsolved mysteries, or you are simply too  
> curious, you´d better move to another story. Things are not going to be  
> very explained.
> 
>  
> 
> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at HASA, which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the HASA collection profile.

Silence.  
  
Then, a sound; the birds were singing. As quiet and still as he could, he  
tried again to tell apart from them that voice he had heard, and wondered  
if it could not be just a trick of his imagination.  
  
But then, he heard it again. Deep, mysterious, yet full of grace and  
sweetness; perhaps forming magical and strange words in a tongue too holy  
for him to understand; the same voice he sometimes heard in his waking  
dreams.  
  
Please, stay here! Let me look upon you, fair creature, do not leave me! he  
thought to say, but he was too much in awe to utter a word. He was only  
able to keep going forward, at each step drawing nearer to the ethereal  
singer and farther from his own people, who had settled to wait for Ulmo by  
the shores of the great Sea.  
  
The dark forest, and then lone and desolate mountains, and plains, were  
stretched within his sight and much far beyond, coloured ghostly with the  
soft silvery glimmer of the stars. It was well known that, lurking in the  
shadows of the deepest places, many horrors could be waiting for any  
careless Elf who dared to venture there alone, but in spite of this he did  
not stop for a moment, all fears trampled, lost, forgotten. He was  
enthralled.  
  
Yes, enthralled. Enthralled as the sweet harmonies came and went in gentle  
waves through the distance, embracing his fëa and arousing it to the point  
of burning in anticipation and desire. Enthralled hearing them, listening  
intently to catch the words, and where they came from... From the forest,  
he believed. They now seemed to come from there, so there he had to go, and  
search for her until he at last could see her face.  
  
If they were to be believed, the stories people told about that place  
where no Quendi dared to enter, magic floated in the air among the bushes  
in Nan Elmoth, and some brave néri had got lost there, to never return  
again. It was considered a very dangerous place, and he knew that also.  
But, did it matter at all?  
  
Birds sang. A faint echo reached his ears, she was waiting for him.  
  
Elwë, lord and king of the host of the Teleri, swallowed hard and headed  
quickly towards the first sombre trees.  
  
* * *  
* *  
  
Meanwhile, back in the Teleri encampment at the seashore, two silver haired  
Elves were sitting at the damp sand, staring intently at the movement of  
the waves.  
  
"He should be here by now." muttered one of them, clearly the eldest of the  
two. The other saw his deep frown, and shook his head.  
  
"Seeing your face, I suppose you must be speaking about Ulmo, not about our  
brother." he joked. However, as the joke passed completely unnoticed, a  
sigh escaped his lips, and he got up to look at him from above.  
  
"Oh, come on, Olwë, you know that he always has to do things by himself!  
And he never needed anybody´s help. Look how he even went to Valinor!"  
  
"Yes, but then he had Finwë to look after him." Olwë answered, grinning at  
the boyish adoration that shone in his brother´s voice as he spoke about  
Elwë. It had always been so with Elmo, he thought, but since their elder  
brother returned from the land of the Valar speaking about the wonders he  
had seen, the whole thing became worse than ever, sometimes almost  
unbearable. And he, by the way, following the wise principle of making the  
best of everything, used to have a good time teasing Elwë for it...  
  
"He must be searching for something he wants to see for the last time  
before we depart, I believe."  
  
"Oh, yes, that excuse." Olwe frowned again. "When he returns, if he does  
not promise to give up his wanderings, I wii..."  
  
"What will you do?" his little brother asked, eyes wide and amusement  
showing clearly in his face.  
  
"I will...I will send you with him! That is the worst thing I could do!"  
  
"Well, for you, yes." said Elmo sulkily, and he began to turn away.  
However, Olwë struggled to his feet and caught his silvery hair with his  
hand to make him stop.  
  
"Elmo!"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
He sighed.  
  
"I am sorry. I did not mean it."  
  
Elmo shrugged his shoulders, smiling to show once again that his grudges  
used to last about fifteen seconds. Although he was nearly going to reach  
his maturity, he was still capable of charming everybody with that smile,  
even someone that, like him, was more than used to it.  
  
"You are quite right. He probably would not have me at his side, but I m  
dying to go with him!"  
  
His elder brother lowered his eyes to the sky.  
  
"Yes. I know. You will be like him one day, unfortunately! And now, come  
on, let us go to see if he has returned."  
  
Although, as he told himself, let me doubt it.  
  
  
  
(To be continued)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know some parts of this chapter may induce readers to think I´m going to fall completely apart from canon. So I´ll say it now: this will not happen. The Grey Annals were annals, written by people. Do you think these people would know exactly what happened when they couldn´t be there to see it?
> 
> Disclaimer: Elwë belongs to Tolkien; but "what" he found I claim as my own.

Elwë was lost. In the midst of Nan Elmoth´s shadows, hopelessly sitting on the ground, there was nothing he could do, and the voice was now gone. Gone.  
  
He had lost her. The thought was so overwhelming, that he couldn´t even bring himself to fear or mistrust his surroundings, the creeping sounds stirred by the wind that blew hard across the twisted branches, or the occasionary glimmer of an evil looking light behind the bushes he tore apart to find a path. And, as unresponsive as his mind, his body too could no longer feel the pangs of hunger and cold.  
  
Maybe she had only been a vision. A trick of the deceitful and evil monster who imprisoned and killed Elves and sent his Orcs to fight them.  
  
"Were you? Were you a vision?" he cried, hoping that somebody or something, even the innocent chirping of a bird, would come to reassure him. That silence was what he could not stand at all.  
  
He got no answer.  
  
"Yes, she was." Elwë thought, sadly, because she would not have just vanished in the air. Tears began to slide down his cheeks. Of course, he had to be different. He could never have been interested in any Teleri, Noldo or Vanyarin nís like his brother and friends, but why? Each time he saw Olwë´s face when he caused with Alquawen, or Finwë kissing Míriel behind a tree, he wondered why was he unable to feel that happiness, for ever so intent in following things out of his reach like figures in a dream. To think he had even agreed to go to Valinor, that far away and unknown land, not to decide the fate of the Quendi, but only to search for those figures there!  
  
And now, he was baffled again. Baffled, and lost. He knew he should be trying desperately to find his way back through the wood, but even his knees refused to budge, for, what was the use of it, anyway?  
  
However, as he was lost in this thread of thoughts, a shrill noise was suddenly heard from afar. His heart leapt. It was a voice. It was her!  
  
She was crying.  
  
* * * * * * * * *  
  
When at last he found the cause of all his pains, in a small clearing bathed in starlight, she seemed not to notice him. Her back rested on the trunk of a great tree, and she was wringing her hands over the ground with something akin to despair, pulling out weeds by their roots and watching listlessly how the wind blew them away. Fascinated by the phantasmagorial sight, he came closer, but as that unsettling visage was revealed before his eyes, he couldn´t suppress a gasp.  
  
Fair indeed it was. And strange, in such a way that made Elwë know she certainly was no Quendi. Divine creature, hideous enemy...she could be both, he thought in amazement. Long shreds of radiant blonde hair fell down her back, stirred by the wind, and her skin was pale, so pale it was impossible to find any trace of life in her face or hands except for a pair of impressive red- glowing eyes that, like those of the wolves, could be seen from a great distance.  
  
And, still, the most disturbing thing to be seen there was no doubt her expression. Not sad, but rather hopeless, utterly forlorn, reminding him of someone who once slipped and fell into a hole without anybody being able to reach out a hand and save her. In fact, so strong became those memories in his mind that he took her hand in his before even noticing what he was doing.  
  
But she was not startled at all by his move. All she did was to bring the hand to her lips, and kiss it.  
  
"Who...who are you?" he began in amazement, as he saw his fingers wet with a yellow fluid. It was her tears. "Please, say something to me. Is there... is there something I can do?"  
  
The cold wind started blowing again.  
  
"Do you want to help me, Elwë of the Teleri?"  
  
"Yes." he answered without a moment´s doubt. Trapped in the lure of her soft hissing voice, even the fact that she seemed to know his name passed unnoticed for him.  
  
"Then do not leave these shores. Do not leave them ever." As she spoke, she stretched her white arms to entwine with Elwë in an ethereal embrace. "Stay here with me. You...you were never meant to go. You were born here...as I was."  
  
A burning desire raged inside Elwë´s body as she ran her cold limbs through his. There was nothing he could deny to this unknown creature, nothing he could argue, nothing else he could do. Trapped forever...  
  
And no wish to escape.  
  
"I love you." Those were his only words, while she kissed his forehead gently, stroking the bright silver of his hair.  
  
"I know."  
  
He could not remember any more.  
  
* * * * * * * * * *  
  
For months and years, the people of the Teleri searched for their lost king, but it was in vain, for he never appeared again. The eagerness with which they had expected Ulmo's return to carry them back to their kin became anxiousness now, for many of them knew they could not possibly go without him, while others, especially those who had friends among the Noldor, said that they were ready to leave Middle- Earth´s shores even if he was not found, for surely he had to be dead by now.  
  
Nobody, not even his brothers, could possibly suspect the truth.  
  
(To be continued)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: The characters are Tolkien´s.
> 
> Really short and stupid chapter, but, as it was yelling at me since long  
> ago in the bottom of my computer, I decided to send it away at last. Here  
> you are!

Years passed one after the other, until a whole century died away. One day,  
at last, that fearsome and great floating piece of land, the Ferry Island,  
was spotted in the distance, heralded by the mighty sound of the Horns of  
Ulmo summoning the Quendi. Olwë then went at once to the shore to answer  
the call of the Vala with his people, for he was King of the Teleri now  
that Elwë was accounted dead among them.  
  
But not Elmo.  
  
"I will stay here to search for my brother." he said simply, with  
determination and a veiled longing in his face. He was a young boy no more,  
and he had married, but he still loved Elwë more than anyone, so much that  
he still was sure he lived somewhere and wanted to find him.  
  
It was not very difficult, however, to imagine Olwë´s wrathful puzzlement  
when he heard that statement.  
  
"You have to come with your people, Elmo! Or would you want to stay in  
those dark and dangerous lands to get killed by Orcs, like Lenwë? Do not be  
headstrong! It is not the moment."  
  
"But I know he is alive!" Elmo cried, with the stubbornness of a child.  
They were both standing in the soft sand of the shore, like the day Elwë  
disappeared, but the dark immensity of the Great Sea was not the only sight  
which met their eyes this time. A whole island, with its cliffs and rocks,  
its forests and its plains, was now stretched in front of them.  
  
"He must be alive." If the situation hadn´t been that serious, Olwë would  
have laughed at his young brother´s ingenuity. "I can feel it inside me,  
why cannot you?"  
  
"I have sensed no pain since he went away." the eldest of the two  
explained. "No pain, no joy, no sign of life, nothing! I am unable to feel  
him, and the only reason for it is that he is dead, brother. Yes, I know,  
it is terrible" he tried, although he knew it was no use, to comfort him.  
  
"I, we did everything we could, but now I am afraid it is time to leave and  
rejoin our kin in the Blessed Realm. The Valar will not come for us again!  
  
"You are right." said Elmo then, causing a deep sigh of relief to escape  
his brother´s lips. Relief that was however to froze with his next words.  
"You most go, together with those that want to follow you."  
  
"What?" Olwë shouted on top of his voice. He was short tempered indeed,  
like their lost elder brother had been, and all that was just too much for  
him. His lips were trembling, trying to form words, but he was choking of  
rage. "You...you...you stubborn fool! Stay alone, if you wish!"  
  
To his uttermost surprise, Elmo´s answer was to lower his eyes and blush,  
with the expression of one who has something unpleasant to say and fears to  
do so.  
  
"Yes, er..Olwë, but..."  
  
His brother came near him again, resting his hands in his hips in a  
commanding gesture.  
  
"Out with it."  
  
"I...I am not staying alone. Many of your people want to stay with me.  
"Elmo managed to say without breathing. "Círdan will stay too, with all the  
people of the Falas, I think because of their friendship with the Lord  
Ossë, but also to help me in the search. I am...I am sorry."  
  
The youngest of the Telerin ruling family had expected anything from his  
furious brother and king at the evidence of the inevitable sundering of  
their people. Anything, except what he actually did, which was to break  
down and bury his face in his hands.  
  
"Come on." he said, tentatively, while stroking Olwë´s silver hair. His  
voice had tried to be soothing, but it only rang hoarse. "I will find a way  
to send you tidings of Elwë´s return, I promise. And,, we do not  
know...maybe the Valar will come for us again. If they yielded to Finwë´s  
entreaties, why not to yours?  
  
"Maybe." Olwë answered, in a strange and determined tone. Grimly, he got up  
and turned away without even looking back. "Take care, little brother...and  
perhaps you will live to see the day when I will be able to forgive you."  
  
And then he left, leaving a heartbroken young Elf lying in the sand.  
  
  
  
* * * * * *  
* * * *  
  
He was sinking gradually, without help. A pool of fathomless night  
swallowed him, each conscious effort damaging his conscience more and more,  
until he had no will to resist the lure of darkness.  
  
Two fiery red eyes glowed in his sky ...no, they were stars. The only  
stars in the night.  
  
 _"Do not fight it, come with me, we will be as one forever."_  
  
Was he fading away? Why did he not hear clearly anymore? The voice was  
beginning to disappear from his mind.  
  
No!  
  
 _No!_  
  
The shrieking cry pierced his ears, but then, he floated in nothingness.  
  
And, somewhere far beyond, he thought he had heard again a nightingale singing.  
  
  
(To be continued)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there is someone who is really interested to know what happens next, I´m  
> sorry to tell that I´ll probably leave this fic until I write at least two  
> or three new chapters of "Dark Seed of Betrayal" ( go Maeglin!) However,  
> I´ll try to write the remaining chapter and the epilogue in October, for  
> Soledad´s birthday is that month.


	4. Chapter 4

The first thing he could hear was the enthralling song calling to his senses again, its sweet waves embracing his fëa and rocking him into consciousness. Then, he opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw revealed to his dim sight was the white- skinned, dark- haired gorgeous spirit of perfection and beauty who had always walked his dreams. Higher and holier than any of the Eldar, ancient beyond measure, the long sought object of his desire was standing in front of him.  
  
"It is you." Elwë said simply. Full of joy, he moved forward to embrace her, but he found he could not, for the ethereal substance she was made of slipped away from his arms.  
  
"You cannot touch me, Child of Ilúvatar." a voice rang in his ears, with a clear accent of surprise for the hurt in the Elf´s eyes. "Tell me, are you still under her lure?"  
  
A nameless dread filled Elwë´s heart when he heard those words, and he curled back into his previous position. Frozen, he stood in place as terrible memories of cold limbs trapping his heated body and a perilous red glare robbing him of his will power swayed him.  
  
"What...what happened to me?"  
  
His desperate cry brought the spirit to his side again, motherly, caring.  
  
"Oh, do not fret, Child of Ilúvatar! You are whole, for I saved you in time."  
  
"Saved?" Elwë shivered at the gentle brushing of such a powerful energy against his sensible skin. " Saved from what? Who was she?"  
  
At those words, an unfathomable sadness wrapped then his fëa, and, startled, he realised that it was she who produced it. It struck him that she was feeling pain, and a loss not different of that he had felt before in the creature of the red eyes, only that less raw and despairing.  
  
"There was a time when she and I were sisters in the mind of the Almighty Maker of the World." she began. "She was a bright and mighty Maia, renowned among the Ainur in Valinor, and we loved to roam freely in the forests and plains of Middle- Earth when the world was young. But, alas! she was seduced, corrupted by the One who is not to be named among the Powers of Arda, so we were sundered for ever ,and, since that day, I have danced with no one by my side."  
  
"A corrupted Maia! But then..." Elwë, in awe, had lowered his voice to a faint whisper, "what did she want of me?"  
  
The beautiful presence hesitated for a while.  
  
"I heard she had been left alone in turn, and that she wandered through the darkest places of the world in grief and despair. Perhaps..it is not known for certain...  
  
"Perhaps she needed you, in some twisted way."  
  
"She did?" Elwë had been quick to perceive the note of longing in her voice, and jumped again, full of fire. "And you? You said you feel alone too, and you have come. Could it not be that you needed me?"  
  
Silence.  
  
It was long, and the Elf felt it was not that of a great being offended by the proud pretence of a lesser, but a turmoil full of doubts and curiosity. There was a glimmer of hope inside her, as if she saw a light, and a heavy stormy cloud of loneliness and fear, harder to dispel.  
  
"She could be kissed, why cannot you?" he insisted, pressing his advantage. "I want to kiss you."  
  
But the spirit shook her head, sadly.  
  
"That cannot be. She could be kissed because she is chained to an incarnate form, and doomed to feel its needs. We can have shapes, but only the Ainur who have fallen to evil are chained to incarnate forms for their existence."  
  
"But then, if you are sad, who can comfort you?" he objected. He could feel his heart throbbing now and, as he looked into her eyes of mist and cloud, it seemed to him that he saw those feelings mirrored in them. "You are lonely because you do not know what is the joy of a hröa pressed against another."  
  
"But that is comforting for you and your kind! The nature of the Maiar is to live free of hröar forever."  
  
Her doubts were increasing. Her longing, too.  
  
"Give me a chance. Only one chance, and I will teach you the only thing that you Maiar ignore."  
  
Those bold words earned him a mildly disapproving stare.  
  
"Do you think yourself so wise, Child of Ilúvatar? Can your pride be so great? You were born an instant ago, long after the horrible wars that stirred us and changed the shape of the world, and you pretend you have a way to heal me that I do not know?"  
  
"Please." Elwë fell to his knees. "Only a short while, and ,if you are displeased, you can leave me and your hröa behind. But I too need you so much! I was searching for you when she found me, and I ventured inside this dark forest just because I heard your voice. Nay, do not leave! Fair creature, if you go without even trying I will stay here and wither away, and my people will never meet me again!"  
  
A shriek muffled the sound of his last words, long and painful. When Elwë tried to look, a glowing light blinded his eyes, and he was forced to close them, to protect himself falling to the ground.  
  
And then, silence once more.  
  
"You are gone." he whispered, as tears began to fall down his cheeks. "I do not blame you, that was what I deserved."  
  
"You deserve to die?"  
  
At the sound of that voice, the sweetest Elwë had ever imagined but still very like to his own, his heart and his hröa jumped up instantly.  
  
She was there!  
  
And she was a spirit no longer.  
  
"I am here. Teach me your wisdom, and perhaps I will teach you mine." she said, stretching with an uncomfortable feeling her newly- acquired limbs of the most perfect white hue. Elwë ran to her, and began to touch her silky dark hair, her beautiful face, and her arms, marvelling at the softness of her skin, kissing it as he laughed and wept at the same time.  
  
"Melian." he said. "Beloved."  
  
And so they laid in the ground, embracing each other and joining their hröar, and flowers blossomed all over the place that was witness of their bliss.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
Elmo was beginning to lose all his hopes. He had remained in Middle- Earth instead of leaving with his brother for the Blessed Realm, he had convinced many of their people to do the same, and for what? Elwë was nowhere to be found. As time passed away, all his companions began deserting him to build settlements near to the Falas, where the people of Cirdan dwelt, until only his wife, his son and a handful of followers were left to search with him, and even they grumbled sometimes, tired already of defying Fate.  
  
It was inevitable. Much as his heart suffered still at the idea, it was time to retire and leave the fruitless search that had proved so vain. And so, one day, he bade his people to wait for him, and walked alone into the forest where he last saw Elwë.  
  
"Farewell, my brother!" he said in his mind as he walked through the bushes, sure that the bond they shared could somehow make his older sibling hear it. "Forgive me for not finding you. Forgive me for despairing, for giving up so soon, but I have to go. At least I promise that we will stay here forever, in the place where our parents awoke to see the stars for the first time and wherever you are, know that I...."  
  
His thoughts ended abruptly when he saw a silver light coming from behind the dark foliage of the trees. Astonished, he began to run towards it without even thinking, feeling the beating of his heart increased to a mad pace.  
  
"Elwë!"  
  
It was him! His long lost brother, bathed in a radiant light and holding the hand of a being fair beyond measure! Pressed by a great fear, shaking uncontrollably, Elmo walked towards them and fell to his knees, stammering.  
  
"E...Elwë...I...the search to...to find you...you.."  
  
But his brother came to his side, and took his head in his hands to kiss it. He was the same Elwë he had known, yet he was not, for there was a new wisdom in his eyes that had not been there before.  
  
"It is me, Elmo. Do not worry.  
  
"I am back now."  
  
(to be continued in an epilogue.)  
  
  
  
So what? AU? I believe not.


	5. Epilogue: A Mistake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Soledad, this is the end of my birthday fic for you. It seems that I managed in the end to finish it in time! I´m really sorry for having chosen this subject, instead of writing something about the Second Age as the others did, but I´m not very comfortable with Second Age characters and, besides, little was left for me to do, having read all the fics you and the people wrote! Anyway, happy birthday!
> 
> Disclaimer: Tolkien´s characters, but my family ties. And the Avari are mine, too (love Avari).

The red eyes.  
  
Looking at him again. Studying, judging, staring inquisitively at his fëa, until only Melian´s gentle squeeze on the hand could prevent his royal countenance from breaking down and showing that unexpected weakness to the others. Intent on trapping him once more.  
  
Or were they just innocently curious?  
  
The young Avarin nís turned her head to whisper some quick words in the boy´s ears, and he lowered his gaze at last, bowing before his King as the rest of his family had already done.  
  
Maybe the memories were too strong.  
  
"How is he named?" Thingol asked in a steady voice. It was obvious that the family of Avarin elves that were there before him was not at all used to light and civilisation, and that their fascinated fear of his queen and himself was of a superstitious nature, but the little boy of the red eyes did not seem to take part in their wonder. If all, he looked like he disliked being there, as if he was aware that he only could be out of place in Menegroth.  
  
"I called him Eöl, my King." the older nís, the mother, answered in the end." since the day I found him as a baby in the sacred forest."  
  
The sacred forest. Oh, yes, Thingol thought, Nan Elmoth was a sacred forest for the Avari. They only ventured there for their secret rites, of which he did not know much, nor wanted to, for just the thought of the being they might be offering expiatory sacrifices sufficed to make him shiver. He had not forgotten, how could he?  
  
And now, this.  
  
"The King and the Queen want to speak with you privately, good nís, while your family rests of the toils of the journey." he announced. The lean, extravagant dressed Avarin mother looked nervous, but nodded quickly, and so, directing a last morbid glance to little Eöl, Thingol took Melian´s hand and left.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
It had been only a short while after the building of the city was finished when rumours had first reached the King´s ears about the strange red- eyed child found and kept by a family of Avari near Nan Elmoth. Extremely disturbed by the possibilities that dawned upon him then, confirmed by Melian, he had resisted to meet him for a long time, but had ended by yielding to the inevitable and at the quiet insistence of his wife.  
  
What had been the reason of his shock? the King wondered, while he sat alone at night at the majestic roots of Hírilorn. Perhaps he had never believed that this child could have anything to do with his dreadful adventure, until he saw him, his eyes glowing red, and all efforts to avoid the truth became vain. Perhaps his hopes of the whole thing being but a nightmare had been dashed that same day.  
  
What a fool he was. Shutting his eyes against unpleasant things, as young children did, he, the King of all Beleriand!  
  
After dismissing the family, he had been talking with Amara, the foster- mother of Eöl, and she had explained him everything in a way that even the things that did not appear clear to his mind before fitted now perfectly in the story of his great error. The baby had been found a very long time ago, but he seemed still a child because he grew at a slower pace than the other Elves. In fact, he was much older than the daughter of the family, who was already a young adult in mind and hröa.  
  
Of course, Thingol thought then, as old as his own wedding with Melian the Maia.  
  
A thing that shocked him too was that Amara, while she spoke, kept assuring him repeatedly that her adopted son was inoffensive and as good as any other, so many times that he could not help but question her about it. Could it be that anybody had tried to harm him before? She confessed it had been so. Uneasily standing the King´s stares, she told him how she and her husband had been banished from their tribe for having refused to kill the baby. They had preferred to leave, seeking refuge with the Dwarves, than to perform the deed and fall to the wrath of the evil Queen of the Dark Forest, to which the baby was evidently connected in some mysterious way. And afterwards, she added quickly, they discovered that there was no malice in his little mind, and then they began to love him as if he were their own son.  
  
"You will not harm him, my King, will you?" she pleaded, concern all over her face. "He is not a..."  
  
"I know, I know." he reassured her. "I give you my word that nobody will touch him wherever people respect my power."  
  
Yes, that he had said, before dismissing her to avoid all the motherly comments about her little one´s renowned deeds in the forges of the Naugrim, mixed with many archaic and unheard of ways of thanking him for his benevolence. When he talked with Melian later, she said he had done right, and did that not imply that she too did not believe the boy to be dangerous?  
  
She, of all others, should know.  
  
And he just wanted to sleep.  
  
Tired, and overcome by his thoughts, the King closed his eyes. As each time he did so, hoping to find some rest, he soon saw himself instead tearing a path between dark trees and their thick branches, and a phantasmagorial creature who pierced him with her grieving, desperate red stare.  
  
"No, not you again!" he heard his own voice crying." You were defeated, leave me in peace!"  
  
"Come with me, do not fight it, we will be as one forever."  
  
"My King!"  
  
Thingol awoke at once, at the very sound of the welcomed voice that had brought him back from his fiendish nightmare.  
  
But only to find himself trapped in another.  
  
"No! Go away!" he cried to the horrible red eyes. The child stepped back and, instinctively, Thingol began to realise his mistake.  
  
"Nay, do not go." His voice was much calmer now, although he still felt attacked by the unsettling presence. So calm, so quiet, so curious...  
  
So piercing.  
  
He is a child, Thingol had to remind himself. Just a child.  
  
"Wha do you want of the King, little one?"  
  
Eöl, not at all abashed in the presence of royalty, did not waste his time.  
  
"I am not your son."  
  
"What?" A cry of dismay and wonder nearly escaped Thingol´s lips. He needed to gather all his composure to face the child again.  
  
"And, pray, who said you were?"  
  
"Nobody." Little Eöl frowned, so deep was his intent in denying everything remotely connected with the hateful fact. "Nobody said it, because I am not your son."  
  
And I wish you were right, Thingol thought, but he nonetheless had to feel angry to keep his royal dignity intact.  
  
"Then, respect your King and go with your nonsense to your family. Of course you are not my son. Do you see anything in common between Elu Thingol, leader of the host of the Teleri and King of Beleriand with a young insolent Moriquendi like you?"  
  
His words were cold as ice, such as would make even grown- up adults to cringe. Even he did not know where had such bitter animosity came from, directed to no more than a tiny child, and wished ardently that Melian could be there to guide him in that very difficult moment of his life.  
  
"Amara and Callon said I was their son, and I believed them." the childish voice rang in his ears again. Why, he was there still? Damned little brat!" But then, the Dwarves said I was their son because I was good at the forge and did not grow up, and the day I got lost in the forest the funny lady that talked to me said she was my mother. Now, you think I am your son, too..."  
  
"Listen, you are not.."  
  
"I am not!" Eöl repeated furiously, while a dangerous spark twinkled in his eyes. "Indeed not! I believe my parents, they are my true parents! And nobody will ever take me away from them."  
  
Thingol stood still, looking at him in silence for a moment that seemed endless. He could feel his rage dying down, inexplicably, and, with an odd mixture of relief and pity swelling his heart, he searched for the boy´s eyes to discover the brilliance of unshed tears.  
  
"Yes, they are, little one." he said, as he caressed the cheeks of the Avarin child." You will go home with them tomorrow."  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
He had honestly thought then that he was doing the right thing. In fact, never had he been more sure of himself that the day he bade his son farewell and saw gratitude in the unforgettable red gaze.  
  
What could have been his mistake?  
  
(The End)

**Author's Note:**

> Note: If you don´t know who Elmo is, check the "History of Galadriel and  
> Celeborn" in the Unfinished Tales. He´s Celeborn´s grandfather.


End file.
